There upon the narrow spine of the mountains, where shadows clung like cobwebs and the wind wailed through black stone, rose the Tower of Cirith Ungol. Hewn in an age of watchfulness by the men of Gondor ™, it had long since fallen into ruin and ruinous purpose, defiled by the hand of the Enemy. Rusted iron crowned its jagged crest; torn banners whispered of ancient honour lost.
In the golden light of morning, Edoras rises from the plains like a crown upon the green hills. The city stands proud upon a high knoll, surrounded by a ring of ancient wooden palisades, and watched over by the looming peaks of the White Mountains. A place of strength and kinship—its walls weathered by wind and time, yet as enduring as the spirit of those who dwell within.
In the heart of the Rohan™ rises the Golden Hall, its thatched roof gleaming under sunlit skies like a crown upon the hill of Edoras. Above the hall’s doors, overseeing the hillside, shines a golden sun motif, carved upon the weathered wood. Adorned with rearing horses of the Rohirrim™, the columns stand tall and strong, bearing the weight of Rohan’s ancient lineage.